Bound and Determined
by Coconut Girl
Summary: Follow up to "The Sweetest Revenge". Percy and Pansy have been married for ten years when the unthinkable happens.
1. Burnt Toast

**A/N: Hello all. Well, I'm back. And yes, it's another Percy/Pansy fic. This is a follow up to "The Sweetest Revenge". There'll be some references but it's not imperative that you read that one to understand this one. Anyway, let me know what you think.**

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 1 – _Burnt Toast_

This wasn't happening to him. He was not rushing home on an emergency portkey. His wife was not lying in St. Mungo's possibly clinging to life. Percy pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes shut, and pleaded with the looming migraine storming toward his frontal lobes to recede. These stabbing, crippling headaches were becoming far too familiar and far too frequent for Percy's liking. Suddenly, the conversation every wizard hopes never to have came hurtling to the forefront of his mind.

--

"_Mr. Weasley?"_

"_Yes," he grumbled, regretting his decision to answer the late night floo when he spotted the strange man in the hearth.  
_

_When he heard it ring initially, he had hoped that Pansy had decided to be spontaneous and surprise him with a floo call just to chat._

'_Yeah right,' he mused grimly. Their conversations as of late centered entirely on their three children and the chaos those heavenly creatures wreaked… piano lessons… art classes… ballet… quidditch… not to mention the integration of their own work schedules into the mad melee. It was never ending and it was a nightmare. Percy couldn't remember the last time he and his wife had a conversation that didn't feel like a strategy meeting. Unfortunately, Pansy seemed to thrive on the mayhem. She reveled in running the roost. To make matters worse, she hadn't let him pursue anything more than a kiss in weeks. The last time he recalled them being intimate, which was several months past, was taunting him like some kind of cruel joke._

_Percy was so caught up in his grey ruminations he failed to notice that the talking head in the grate had been rambling for a full minute._

"_Mr. Wealsey, are you all right?" the man queried._

"_Sorry, what? I was asleep when you called. What seems to be the trouble?" he responded in a low, flat voice._

_The man gave him a nervous look and a heavy sick feeling wormed itself into the pit of Percy's stomach._

"_Well," the man stuttered anxiously. "I… I just told you about your wife, and her-"_

"_About my wife? What about my wife?" Percy cut the man off unceremoniously._

_The man paused to eye Percy, clearly uncertain as to how to broach the subject at hand. "She's had an accident, sir," he finally managed. "There was an explosion, and she…"_

--

At that point, Percy's vision had gone fuzzy. Everything careened out of focus and only flashes of images made it through to his mind's eye. His heart pounding wildly in his chest, the only certainty that coursed through his veins was the frantic desperation to see her… hold her… feel that she was alive and well. Somehow, his luggage was packed, the company and client contacted for rescheduling, and the portkey back to London sorted all in a matter of five minutes. Now that he'd relocated his presence of mind, he recognized he was standing in a cue waiting.

He allowed himself to slide back into the darkness of his worries and self-reprimands. Why had he encouraged her to study for her Apothecary's license? Granted it was over five years ago, but still. It wasn't as if they needed the money. He cursed himself for wanting her to feel fulfilled. At the time, she halfheartedly assured him she'd be content as the Mistress of their home. But no, he had to go and egg her on. He just had to tell her there was more to life than being a homemaker if that's what she really wanted. The look of excitement and adoration on her sweet face at his support had turned any qualms he may have held to mush. He was so stupid. If he'd only considered the possible consequences.

Now… now she lay in a hospital bed in Merlin knew what condition. His children were in all likelihood terrified. Their mother dying and their father… Where was their father?

'_Away on business as usual,'_ Percy prodded himself viciously. All at once, he felt nauseous at the suffocating vice clenching his insides.

He looked up quickly ready to take someone's head off for the slow moving line, and right into the eyes of the desk attendant. How had he made it to the front of the cue? He didn't even remember moving forward. Wordlessly, he handed over his travel documents and prepared to make the leap.

--

Although the trip back took most of the night, Percy found himself skittering quickly down the sterile hallway toward a set of large swinging double doors. He stopped abruptly just before reaching out to push his way through when a paralyzing fear assaulted his tall frame.

What if she was dead? What if he hadn't made it back to her in time? The thought of losing Pansy nearly sent Percy doubling over in agony. He couldn't imagine his life without his "feisty little valkyrie". He shuffled back clumsily and pressed his back against the wall. The tears he'd refused to shed the whole way home stung his eyes, threatening to spill.

Percy buried his face in his hands as his legs gave way beneath him and he crumpled to the floor in a low crouch. He was supposed to be a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake but he couldn't find the courage to walk through those doors.

Suddenly, a voice cut through his torment. "Percy?"

He looked up to find Harry Potter staring down at him.

At the sight of Percy's broken down state, Harry instantly became panic stricken. "She's not… Sweet Merlin, she didn't…"

"I… I haven't been in yet," Percy managed weakly. "I… I just couldn't…"

Harry visibly relaxed yet the worry didn't completely leave his face. "Come on, mate," he offered as he hauled Percy to his feet.

"What are you doing here?" Percy asked, finally becoming fully aware of exactly who was helping him up.

Harry averted his eyes and shifted awkwardly. "Um… Well, Pansy was asking for Draco, so we came down."

"She's awake? Is she all right? What happened?" Percy fired the questions at him as they pushed through the swinging doors into the "Potion Related Mishaps" ward.

Before Harry could answer, Percy was tackled by three mini assailants.

"Daddy… Daddy, where have you been?" "Dada." "What's wrong with mummy?" "Why can't we see her?" His children's questions overlapped and blended.

Percy lifted his youngest into his arms and hugged all three children fiercely to him.

"Daddy doesn't know yet," he murmured softly.

After a few long moments, a soft hand touched his back and began to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

"Hi Mum," he mumbled.

"Children, let your father speak with the healer."

Percy heaved a sigh of relief. His mother's voice had never sounded so good in his life.

Suddenly, she was right in front of him taking his son out of his arms while giving Percy a gentle peck on the cheek.

"Mr. Percy Weasley?"

Percy watched his mother move off down the hall with his children for a moment before turning to answer in the affirmative. He glanced around confused when he found no one but then felt a slight tug on his cloak and looked down to a little wizened witch.

"Yes?"

"Hello, Mr. Weasley. I'm Healer Marshall. I'm your wife's attending."

"How is she?" Percy asked, crossing his arms over his chest and ignoring any attempt at pleasantries.

"Well, it's quite complicated actually."

"What do you mean 'complicated'? In what way?" Percy pushed aggressively as he began to gnaw on the pad of his thumb.

"She received the brunt of quite a powerful potion," the tiny woman replied calmly, unaffected by his attempt to grill her.

"And?" When the small healer failed to respond immediately, Percy scoped about anxiously, impatience wearing plainly on his features. "I heard she's awake. It can't have been that bad."

"Yes, she's awake but…"

"Can I see her?"

"There are a few things you need to know before that can happen, Mr. Weasley."

"Like what?" Percy bit out far more sharply then he'd intended and the small witch bristled at his shortness. He focused his eyes down and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I've been traveling half the night, and I…"

"You don't need to explain. Mr. Weasley. I understand completely," the old woman offered gently, placing a consoling hand on his arm.

Percy tried another tactic. "What happened to her?" he asked softly.

"Your wife was brewing a very intricate potion when the explosion occurred. She was standing directly in front of the cauldron and…"

"Was she burned? Is she disfigured?" Percy jumped all over her words.

"She only received minor burns, Mr. Weasley. The major damage was to her memory."

"Excuse me?" Percy stammered.

"Her memory, Mr. Weasley."

"What do you mean 'her memory'? How much has she lost?"

The woman drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long stream before answering. "It would seem the last fifteen years."

Percy stood motionless for a full ten seconds, staring blankly at the tiny healer. "What?" he finally whispered hoarsely.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley."

"How… How can you tell? I mean… What… Has she given you any… Fifteen years. Are you sure?"

White, hot panic clawed its way up his chest and sent Percy's mind spinning. He staggered backward and placed a hand to his forehead, the very real ramifications of what he'd just learned weighing down on him. That would mean she'd have no recollection of him… of them… of their children. She'd be her old self. Sweet fucking Merlin.

"Is it permanent?" he reluctantly asked.

"We can't tell at this time."

Without warning, Harry's words came slamming back to him. _'She was asking for Draco.'_

"Who's with her now?" Percy panted, trying to control his growing ire.

"What?" the old witch blurted out.

"Who's visiting with her now? Has she seen anyone?" he repeated.

"Yes, she has. Mr. Malfoy. He's been sitting with her for about an hour now."

Percy saw red. Yes, Draco was with Harry and had been for years. Yes, they were all friends now, almost like family, but that did not stop the raging, possessive jealousy from overwhelming Percy.


	2. Wash Away My Sins

**A/N: First off, I am so, so, so sorry this took so long. I've been swamped in a massive Auditing course. It's finally finished. Well almost. Just studying for the exam now. Anywho, I digress. I'm fully prepared to get all over this story. Without further ado, enjoy and let me know what you think.**

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 2 – _Wash Away My Sins_

Percy took a deep, ragged breath and hesitated briefly before following Healer Marshall through the door into uncertainty. Upon learning of his wife's request all of his logic had fled and a wave of searing rage had engulfed him. At the time, he'd craved nothing more than to throttle the ferret to within an inch of his life. Percy hadn't experienced anger and jealousy of that magnitude in a very long time, if ever.

Once he'd been restrained and pacified by his mother and Harry, he'd felt truly shaken by the sheer force of the emotions that had rocketed through him. In hindsight, it felt unnatural and extreme. It was totally unlike him to lose control so completely but he quickly dismissed his volatility, ascribing blame to a sleepless night full of intense stress. He'd almost lost his wife.

Who was he kidding? If he were being entirely honest with himself, he'd acknowledge the probability that he already had lost her. Maybe not physically but if the healer was correct and Pansy's memory really had been wiped, there was no telling how badly things could turn. The notion that this could be permanent made his insides reel and clench viciously but he pushed on through the door.

An almost harsh beam of sunlight streamed in through the large windows to his right, washing half the room with a hazy yet cold glow and illuminating the dust specks that danced slowly in the stagnant air. Suddenly his ears were assaulted by a whiny chatter – he would know the timbre of his wife's voice anywhere, but this sound was foreign to him.

Percy did a slow sweep of the room, searching for the source of the twittering, when his eyes took hold of their target. _His _Pansy was propped up comfortably on two very plump looking pillows, an expression of absolute adoration smothering her features as she gazed at the man sitting by her bed. _His_ Pansy was playing idly with said man's hands as she kept looking up coyly though her lashes at the wanker. _His_ Pansy reached up and brushed a sole finger along the berk's cheek. Staring daggers at the git's back, Percy could feel himself hurtling headlong into a mad, red kind of rage. That prat was doing nothing to stop her. He was holding her hands and speaking in a low tone with her.

Percy was on the verge of advancing when he felt a hand gently grasp his shoulder, easing him back. He glanced sideways to find Harry just behind him, calm, yet a look of consternation marring his brow. Their eyes met, a look pleading for patience… for silence… passed from one to the other.

--

Sensing the new presence in the room, Draco turned to look over his shoulder. As his eyes fell on the tiny, old healer as well as the two solemn looking men at the door, he shot clear out of his chair, dropping Pansy's hands unceremoniously. A scowl riddled its way over her face and she snatched his right hand back into hers. Shifting her cool gaze to the recent arrivals, she arched a solitary brow and gave them a disgusted sniff.

"Yes? Can we help you?" she snapped.

"Good morning… um… Pansy!" the healer faltered. "How are you feeling?"

Pansy's eyes shifted uncertainly to the men standing just to the woman's right. If she wasn't mistaken, one was definitely Harry Potter and the other looked distinctly like a Weasel, but of course they all looked the same to her. Her mind cycled quickly through the possible reasons for their presence.

"I'm feeling… I'm feeling a bit queasy if you must know. And my head is simply aching. What? What is it?" she barked suddenly, her eyes pinning the red head with derision. "Why do you keep staring at me, you disgusting little mite? Draky, love, why are these men here? I'm not well and I just want us to be alone," she simpered as she pawed her way up his arm.

"I know, my… my love." Draco mumbled, still holding her hand.

At this, Percy's entire frame went rigid and the room was plunged into a scorching silence. A wave of inexplicable anxiety rolled through Pansy's chest. Why had the atmosphere become so charged? She wanted to move… to fly… to flee. She did not want to spend one more second under _that_ man's intense scrutiny, but she felt paralyzed.

After a few excruciatingly long seconds, Percy pulled his eyes away and moved stiffly to the windows. He stopped, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and stared blindly out on the warm day, the searing hurt playing so plainly on him.

"Draco," Harry muttered darkly, interrupting the deafening silence, "may I speak with you in the hallway, please?"

Pansy, whose attention had been drawn to the man at the window by a sick kind of detached curiosity, snapped her eyes back quickly.

"Draco, love," she whinged, "don't leave me."

"I'll just be a few minutes, Panse," he assured her as he moved over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Sparing Percy a brief glance, Draco followed Harry out of the room. With a calculating glare, Pansy glanced back at the redhead by the window, intrigued by the possible reason for his presence.

"Mrs. We… Pansy," came the healer's voice.

Pansy pulled her eyes away and pinned them on the little old witch now standing at the end of her bed. "Yes?" she quipped, folding her now free hands in her lap and sticking her chin up and out slightly.

"You mentioned you felt nauseous and that you had a head ache. How are you feeling now?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I still…" Pansy's words petered out as she realized that the dizziness and dull throbbing in her temples had disappeared. "I… Actually, I think I'm feeling a little better. Thank you."

The healer quickly shot the man standing across the room a glance and then murmured, "Good. That's very good," as she looked back down to the open file in her hands.

The man merely turned his head slightly toward the room in miniscule acknowledgement. The looks did not go unnoticed by Pansy, however.

"Can I ask you something, healer…" she paused, grasping for the woman's name.

"Marshall."

"Healer Marshall. Yes. Sorry. What is _he_ doing here? Is he my lawyer or something?"

Percy's shoulders sagged ever so slightly, and his chin dropped in defeat as he turned back toward the windows.

"Mr. Weasley, you mean?" the healer asked, needing clarification.

"Yes. What is… Mr. Weasley doing here?" Pansy managed, spitting his name out in distaste.

"He… He's your husband… Mrs. Weasley."

Percy finally turned to face the room to find Pansy staring at the little healer in wide-eyed horror. This was going to be a lot worse than he'd initially imagined.

--

Draco felt himself grabbed by the arm and turned abruptly around. He came face to face with his very angry lover.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Harry whispered hoarsely.

"What are you talking about?" Draco offered lightly as he looked down and drove his hands into his trouser pockets, the picture of nonchalance.

"You know exactly what I mean. What was all that 'love' crap about? Why were you holding her hand?"

"Harry, she's been through a lot. I was just comforting her."

"Draco…" Harry growled low in warning.

"You know the healer said we had to keep her calm until Percy arrived. I was just going along with it to keep her happy."

"That's a load of utter bollocks, and you know it."

"Harry…" Draco murmured pleadingly as he stepped forward, trying to slip his hands around Harry's waist.

"No," Harry barked in response, shaking Draco's hands off him. "There was no need to be that… that…"

"Harry, you know it meant nothing to me," he cajoled as he attempted to move into his lover's personal space again.

"It meant something to Pansy though and you know it. Draco, she's not herself. You're lucky I was there to hold Percy back. He was damn well ready to kill you."

"Oh please, we're talking about Percy Weasley here."

"Draco, we're talking about a man's wife here. You're fortunate to still have all your limbs."

"I'll be more careful next time," Draco managed through a barely concealed smirk.

"Next time?" Harry's eyebrows climbed.

Draco shifted uncomfortably with the unintentional admission. "I was just teasing."

Harry stiffened, sensing the lie. "There will not be a next time, Draco. Pansy is a strong woman. She can handle the truth."

"She's one of my closest friends, Harry. I can't abandon her."

"I didn't say you should. But you also shouldn't make her think she has a chance with you."

"That's not what I was doing." Draco defended.

"Really? Well, it certainly looked that way from where I was standing."

"Harry, you're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" Harry shot back.

"Yes, you are." Draco countered.

Suddenly, a loud peel of laughter erupted from Pansy's room. The two men regarded each other with shock for a brief moment then made quickly for her door.

--

Harry and Draco stumbled into the room to find Percy staring motionless out the window, a dead expression blanketing his features and Pansy yammering incessantly at the helpless mediwitch.

"You've got to be kidding me. I'm married to… to _that_? What, in Merlin's name, happened to my sense of decorum… my sense of style and taste? Did my pride and self esteem simply fly out the window?"

"Pansy…" Draco tried to interrupt her rant.

"Draky, this is your worst prank yet. You're trying to tell me I married a Weasel? Why in the world would I so debase myself? Next thing you'll be trying to convince me that we have a litter of little weasels running around."

The emotional temperature in the room dropped suddenly as the existence of three very innocent souls came back to the front of everyone's mind. Percy turned quickly, and with a terrified gleam piercing his blue eyes, he silently pleaded with the other two men to remain quiet. Stunned for a moment by the revelation, both Harry and Draco gave a slight nod, agreeing to keep that piece of vital information concealed. Pansy, however, watched the minute exchange with keen interest.

"No," she breathed out low and heavy, "you're not serious."

In the next instant, a deep, full laugh rumbled through her chest and she clapped her hands together in a malicious glee. "Oh Draky, you have really gone above and beyond this time. This I simply have to see."

"What are you on about?" Harry tried to question but Pansy was not to be deterred.

"Bring them in," she announced pompously.

"Who?" Percy offered, attempting lamely to lead her off.

"Oh you know who 'husband of mine'," she sneered viciously. "I want to see my children. Bring me my children," she shouted in a loud royal proclamation of sorts.

"Mrs. Weasley, I really don't think that is a very good idea at this time," Healer Marshall piped in, finally entering the fray.

Pansy shuddered at the mediwitch's manner of address, but straightened her shoulders and found her resolve. "Are you going to deny me access to my babies? I want to see my little rodents." She had tried to remain formal, but she couldn't quite manage to keep the playful smirk off her face, or the giggle from her voice.

Seemingly from nowhere, Percy flew forward from his haven by the windows to her bedside.

"Listen you … you little…" he snarled in a low, dangerous growl. "You really want to see them? Fine, you'll see them. But you so much as say one hurtful word in front them… to them… and I swear to Merlin… No matter how much I love you, I'll… I swear I'll…" Percy was visibly trembling with his barely suppressed anger. Without warning, he spun on his heels, stormed over to the chairs at the other end of the room, and promptly collapsed in a heap.

Pansy's eyes had gone wide at his admission. She'd never had a man profess his love for her so passionately even if it was in the course of leveling a threat. Either this Weasel was quite the actor or… No, she did not want to consider the "or" of this situation. It was far too devastating a prospect.

She squared her shoulders and sat up a little straighter. "I promise to behave. Honest."

No one moved. It seemed even breathing would cause too much of a disturbance in the tense atmosphere and encourage the bed ridden tyrant.

"I promise," Pansy simpered playfully, trying to infuse some light sincerity into her plea.

Harry looked to Percy and found him hunched over with his face buried deeply in his palms. He had apparently given up on being a participating member of the conversation.

"I'll be back in a moment with your children, Mrs. Wea… Pansy," Healer Marshall offered quietly. "Before I go, I would like to impress upon you how traumatic this event has been for them. Please try to maintain a…" the small woman stopped, searching for the right words. "Just… be nice."

With that, the tiny witch turned brusquely toward the door. Pansy scowled at the healer's receding back. How dare the old hag lecture her!

An oppressive weight of silence took hold of the room. Fiddling idly with the edge of her bed sheet, Pansy tried for an air of boredom but her obvious tension gave her away. Harry and Draco slowly paced about the room careful to avoid eye contact with each other. Percy, however, did not move a muscle in his huddled state.

The door slowly began to push open and Pansy's eyes darted to the entrance, training themselves hungrily on the sudden movement. Without warning, Percy jumped out of his chair almost as if he'd been shaken awake, and moved to meet the new arrival. A lone girl of about ten edged her way cautiously into the room, the fear playing openly on her face suggesting that she had received the full details of her mother's predicament.

Pansy gawked in wonder at the child, blind to the way her "husband" hovered protectively at the peripheral. Her recent derision forgotten, Pansy swept her eyes appraisingly over the girl. She had long, thick, curly black hair - it was a presence almost unto itself. Her eyes were an icy blue, her skin alabaster, and her cherub lips looked as if she'd just been gorging on raspberries. Pansy felt an incredible swell of pride and something else she couldn't quite place. The child was absolutely beautiful. Everything Pansy had always dreamed for in a daughter. It was almost too good to be true.

Pansy narrowed her eyes in calculation and shifted her sights to Draco. "Lovely little thing, wouldn't you say, Draky? Good choice."

Percy tensed but before he could respond, Pansy continued on. "What's your name child?"

Edging toward her father and clasping his hand for support, the child responded meekly, "Miranda."

"Miranda. That's a lovely name," Pansy responded tersely. "Is this the only one?"

"You have two more, Pansy," Draco answered.

"Two more?" she burst out loudly, laughing all the while. "What? Are we rabbits now?" she asked Percy jovially. It was clear she still believed this was all a ruse. "Well, show the little critters in."

Percy stepped forward threateningly, but as if on cue the door swung open and a toddler came barreling into the room.

"Mummy… mummy… mummy…" the boy gurgled jubilantly as he lumbered onto the bed and began an ungainly crawl toward Pansy.

Everyone's eyes went wide in disbelief and horror as Pansy began to frantically pull away, pressing herself desperately into the headboard to escape the onslaught.

"Get him off! Get him off me!" she wailed as she began to wave her arms blindly in front of her to ward off the gregarious child's advances.

As the child shakily began to stand to engulf his mother in a hug, Pansy's hand lightly connected with his chest sending him further off balance.

Everything from that point on happened in slow motion. The little boy began to flail his arms desperately for something to stop his imminent tumble, but it was to no avail. He began to topple backwards off the bed, head first into a nasty landing on the hard tiled floor.

A collective gasp resounded through the room, and Percy leapt forward to stop the impact but could not make it across the room in time. Everyone waited for the sickening thud of the child's body making contact with the floor but it did not come.

As the chaos of the moment settled and focus returned, the room fell deathly quiet by what had and was still transpiring. There at the side of the bed, the toddler was suspended mere inches off the ground, hovering in mid air. The three men looked to each other and the healer quickly, searching for who was levitating the boy but found only wide-eyed confusion all around.

All four looked to the only other person in the room capable of that level of magic. Pansy, her tense arms shaking and extended out reaching for the boy, had a look of sheer terror glazing her eyes. The moment held for a few seconds, giving the chance for the image to burn itself into everyone's memory. Then in a flurry of action, the toddler flew upward and directly into Pansy outstretched arms.

When he landed safely in her embrace, the small boy began to wail inconsolably. Clutching him tightly to her, Pansy began to rock back and forth and murmur softly into the mop of brown hair adorning the child's head.

Regaining his presence of mind, Percy slowly inched forward to take the baby from her when the sense of her whispered words reached his ears and stopped him cold.

"Silly bobbett… silly, silly bobbett. Shush now."

He blinked back the sudden tears stinging his eyes and tried to ease the boy from Pansy's arms, but the child was unwilling to release her. As if shaken from the spell by Percy's close proximity, Pansy went rigid and pried the child's tight grip off her. She regarded them coolly as Percy stood up, holding the boy closely to him.

"And what's this one's name?" she asked with as much snark as she could muster.

"Robert… Bobby."

"Well, isn't that touching? After my father," responded Pansy flatly.

She then gave a sharp nod and chose a spot to her left to focus on. Percy studied her for a few seconds, always drawn in by her beauty, but shook himself free of the vision. This version of her was too cold… too distant. Percy turned swiftly and exited the room unable to bear the sight, his youngest tucked securely in his arms and his oldest following close behind him.

After a drawn out silence, Pansy finally quipped shortly, "You know Draky, this little game of yours has been fun, but it's getting rather tiresome. The kiddies were a nice touch, but I thought you said there were three?"

"There are three," Harry snapped, "I'll go see where Penny's gotten to."

Harry left without a word or look to either, Draco watching his departure devoutly. Once he was gone, Pansy began to sputter with laughter.

"Penny? Now I know you're joking. I would never name a child of mine Penny."

Draco smirked at her half-heartedly. "Her name's actually Penelope."

"Ugh. Even worse. And why, pray tell, would I name my child that?"

Draco scoped about for an answer that wouldn't be too difficult for Pansy to grasp. "You named her after someone important."

"Apparently," Pansy snorted unconvinced. "Did someone save my life?"

Suddenly, growing uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Draco huffed a big sigh and started for the door. "Well, I should probably be leaving."

"Stay. Please," Pansy pouted coyly.

"I… I can't."

He came forward a few steps then paused, as if debating with himself. Finally making up his mind, he quickly closed the gap between them, leaned in, and pressed a gentle, tender kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"I'll come back to check on you," he whispered against her cheek.

Pansy flushed happily but failed to notice the guilt riddling its way over his fine features as he stood.

"Until then, my love," she called out to him as he made his way to the door.

Unconvinced of his decision, Draco could only afford a slight turn of his head and a curt nod to acknowledge her, before escaping into the brightly lit hall.

After her door had softly slid shut, Pansy looked about the room finally aware of her solitude, but something niggled at her. She wasn't alone. She could feel it.

"Hello?" she waited for a response but none came. "I know you're there," she added as if to draw out the intruder.

A small waif of a girl slipped from behind the dividing screen tucked up in the corner. She had poker straight red hair that was entirely too unkempt for Pansy's liking and an inordinate amount of freckles covering her face. Beside the fact that the girl was very obviously a Weasley, there was something eerily familiar about her. The child's eyes were haunting. Pansy felt as if she should know them, but couldn't quite place where.

"Penny, I presume," Pansy quipped smartly, trying desperately to regain her composure.

Instead of responding with apprehension or fear, as would be the normal reaction of a child at such abruptness, this little person merely afforded Pansy a look of sympathy and compassion.

"Hello mummy," the child offered with a quiet confidence.

Pansy shifted awkwardly, this whole encounter was becoming more and more unsettling.

"Well, come here then and let's have a look at you." The child approached her bed with slow measured steps as Pansy continued. "Would you look at your hair? It's a rat's nest."

As the child climbed up on the bed, and situated herself primly at Pansy's feet, she replied evenly. "You always comb it for me."

The child handed her a small ornate brush and it was then that her appearance had its full impact on Pansy. She was looking down into the exact replica of her mother. Granted, the girl's colouring was completely different, but without a doubt it was her mother's face… her mother's eyes... her mother's spirit. Pansy hadn't seen it reflected back at her since her mother's death when she was seven.

Barely able to process what she was witnessing, Pansy blindly took the proffered brush as the little nymph turned her back to her. In silence, she began to draw the brush through the child's fine hair.

In those quiet minutes, the full weight of Pansy's situation came pressing down on her. This was not a joke… or a ruse… or a prank. This child before her with her mother's eyes was the proof. There was no doubt in her mind now that the Weasel was in fact her husband. That all three of these rodents… children were hers. How had she come to this? What reason could she possibly have had for marrying so beneath her? Marrying a Weasley at that.

The tears started to stream unchecked down her face as she continued to comb the child's long strawberry blond hair.

Suddenly, the girl turned to face her. Raising her hand up to cup Pansy's cheek, she whispered, "Don't cry, mummy. It will be all right."

"What if I don't remember?" Pansy began to pant with pent up emotion, reverting back to the relationship she had with her own mother. It seemed natural to do with this child.

"You will. I'll wait," was the child's simple response.

It was too much for Pansy. She collapsed forward onto the child's lap and began to sob uncontrollably. She felt the small figure lean over her protectively and encompass her in a tiny, big hug as the fatigue and dizziness began to encroach on her senses again.

Whether it was minutes or hours later, Pansy woke with a start. The child was gone, and she hardly knew whether the meeting had been real or just a very lucid dream.

--

**I am Green:** Sorry for the wait. Life got in the way.

**QueenoftheClumsyDorks: **She's going to get a lot worse before she gets better.

**X5-494:** Thank you. I love this pairing. They are so easy to write for.

**kalira: **It's going to get very complicated. Something I know you love. hahahahaha!! I promise to shoot updates your way. I just wanted to get this one out to get things kicked off.

**Grande.Vanilla.Skim.Latte:** Thank you. It's going to get very twisty and turny. But that's me isn't it.

**autumnlover: **lol. Yeah, I know it's queue. I was just so anxious to get it up that I posted too quickly.

**Mistymist: **Thank you so much. And there will be more Drarry for you ;)

**Miss Anthrope: **Hello Lady!! Sorry for the wait. Life sucks when it takes precedent.

**Sullen Shadowhawk: **Thank you so much. It's a complicated tale, but it should be fun.

**cinroc: **Thank you. Sorry I made you wait so long. It won't be so long now between chapters. Promise.

**ClumsyTonks:** They're my favourite too :D

**qt4good:** Thank you :)

**stoneofpurity:** Sorry for the wait. I'll be better about that from now on.


	3. The Difference Between Apples and Orange

**A/N: I got a 92 on my dreaded, massive Auditing business case!! The horrible thing was the only thing standing in the way of me writing!! YAY!! Anyway, here's chapter 3. I have chapter 4 clearly in mind so it shouldn't take that long.**

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 3 – _The Difference Between Apples and Oranges_

Elbows perched on the armrests of his chair and hands tightly clenched before his hunched torso; Percy sat waiting in the small, musty office. Although he'd been left there on his own for at least twenty minutes, he was in absolutely no hurry to be joined by Pansy's healer. Her imminent arrival would bring with it confirmation of the end of his marriage.

He didn't need the woman to tell him his wife was gone. He'd witnessed firsthand Pansy's new, or rather old personality. Releasing his death grip, Percy reached up and slowly dragged his hands over his face, giving his cheeks a good scrub in the process. He dropped his hands and looked about tiredly. As long as the medi-witch stayed away, some doubt still existed as to the true state of Pansy's mind. Percy could still hope that she might regain her memory, and return to normal.

Suddenly, the door burst open, admitting a flurry of activity. Amazingly, it was comprised of a single individual. "Sorry about that, Mr. Weasley," the stout, little whirlwind puffed as she blew past him. "Seems no one felt the need to inform me they'd stashed you in here."

"Quite all right," Percy mumbled absently, only just then being drawn out of his brooding.

"Now, where were we?" she muttered more to herself as she flipped open the file in her hands, and laid it down neatly on the table in front of her. "Right. So…"

It was at this point that the matronly healer finally made eye contact with Percy and her expression instantly softened into a dreadful kind of sympathy. The woman's change in demeanor tore a massive gash in Percy's faltering hope. It held all the information he could possibly need.

"So," he countered with an air of resignation.

The medi-witch anxiously clasped and unclasped her hands in front of her and took a few cleansing breaths, steeling her resolve for the conversation ahead.

"Mr. Weasley, I… I need to ask you a few rather personal questions before we begin."

Percy eyed the witch warily but offered a curt nod for her to continue.

"Were you and your wife having marital issues at the time of her accident?"

"Excuse me?" he sputtered.

"Were you experiencing any difficulties of a domestic nature?" she clarified.

"What kind of ridiculous question is that? What are you implying? Are you saying that I was somehow involved in Pansy's accident?" Percy reeled back defensively.

"No, Mr. Weasley, nothing of the kind," she cut into his rant. "I merely… I've been reviewing the auror's report from the scene of the accident as well as their apothecary's report of the chemical compound from the potion she was brewing. Mr. Weasley, it would appear she was working on a very complex potion that was specifically focused on the marriage bond."

"Excuse me?" he managed, confused with the abrupt change in the direction of the conversation.

Healer Marshall shifted awkwardly in her chair and averted her gaze to avoid the piercing questions in his eyes. The man before her was obviously unaware of his wife's intentions.

When the healer didn't respond immediately, Percy pushed on. "What exactly do you mean 'focused on the marriage bond'? In what way?"

"We're still not entirely sure, but…"

"But you have an idea." Percy finished for her grimly.

"Yes, we do. The combined ingredients would seem to suggest that she was attempting to… to dissolve it. The bond, that is."

Percy sat motionless and wide-eyed for a yawning stretch of time. Healer Marshall was very nearly ready to ask him if he'd understood her when he shot out of his chair and began to pace blindly about the cramped office.

"If it's any consolation, she wasn't successful," she supplied lamely.

"It's not, thank you very much," Percy snapped back viciously.

"Mr. Weasley, you should be relieved the bond still exists."

He stopped and glared at her darkly, his eyes warning of the storm to come. "Relieved? Are you mental? You just informed me that my wife was, in essence, trying to divorce me. You seriously expect me to be relieved?"

The small healer breathed in slowly through her nose and willed her shoulders to relax down before responding in what she hoped was a calm, soothing tone. "I understand your distress over this news, Mr. Weasley, but…"

"You have no idea what I'm feeling so don't even try," he hissed at her.

Percy's words plunged the room into a thick, tense silence as he began to pace again, trying unsuccessfully to escape the tightening vice closing around his heart and throat. He should have seen this coming: Pansy's unmistakable distancing from him over the past few months, her cool, almost business-like detachment, and the total lack of intimacy in their relationship. The signs were all there, he had just chosen in true Weasley fashion to ignore them.

For her part, Healer Marshall had the wisdom to remain quiet, allowing the man in her office to work through his shock. Although she highly doubted that could be accomplished in the short time they had.

With little warning, Percy turned and fixed his complete attention on the medi-witch. "You mentioned the bond still exists?"

"Yes, I did," she confirmed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It's quite volatile and unbalanced, but it's definitely still there."

Percy nodded wordlessly and glanced about as if completely lost.

"That actually leads me to my second point, Mr. Weasley. Please, have a seat," she continued when she felt he was ready to move on with the conversation.

"I'd prefer to stand, thank you all the same," he challenged shortly, his eyes unreadable.

"And I believe it's better if you sit for this." The healer refused to back down.

He eyed her for a few long seconds then collapsed into the chair. "Why do I get the feeling this is about to get a lot worse?" he grunted as he hunched over and massaged his neck with both hands.

"Although Pansy seemed quite hostile toward you…" the healer began, ignoring his comment.

"Oh, you noticed that, did you?" he lobbed at her with a fair bit of snark.

"Mr. Weasley, please let me finish," she huffed.

"Sorry. Yes, please go on," he snarled, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at the floor.

"Mr. Weasley, you're manner and tone are uncalled for."

His eyes shot up and pinned her with sudden ire. "I've lost my wife not once, not twice, but three times today. You'll excuse me if I'm having a bit of trouble coping," he bit out sharply, trying desperately to stave off the tremor creeping into his voice.

"Mr. Weasley," the healer cajoled soothingly, finally catching his meaning.

"Before I got here, I thought she might be dead or close to it. Then I find out that she has absolutely no recollection of me, or our children. Now I learn that she's been trying to leave me for months. Do I honestly look like a man who's ready to take on more?"

Percy bowed his head and finally allowed the grief he was feeling to claim him. Healer Marshall watched him, speechless. She was chagrined to admit it hadn't fully occurred to her what the true extent of his misery might be on learning these new details.

"Mr. Weasley," she started softly. "Percy, these are only our preliminary findings. The aurors still have to conduct a full investigation, and our healers have only been able to complete a partial analysis of her blood work."

"Please spare me your sympathy," he gritted out as he raised his head to meet her gaze, and wiped at his eyes with the knuckles of his left hand. "I have three children who now no longer have a mother."

"That's not exactly the case," she offered.

"Pardon me?"

"I know she seems unaffected by them, but I believe her connection with your children will overcome her memory loss."

"Oh, you do, do you?" Percy was beginning to lose his temper again.

"Unlike the marriage bond, the magical bond between a mother and her child cannot be severed by any means. It is an intrinsic part of both, woven in the womb from conception. Pansy may not consciously remember her children, but her attachment to them is obvious."

"What do you mean?" he pressed.

"Mr. Weasley, she performed wandless magic. We both saw her stop your son's fall. That's difficult under the best of circumstances. Considering her debilitated stated, I'd say it was nothing short of a miracle. Her bond with them is clearly as strong as ever."

"The woman I know would never speak to her children the way I saw her do today," Percy stated staunchly.

"She's trying to sort out some extremely harrowing emotions, and a reality that's completely foreign to her. I'd be lying if I said this was going to be easy or clear cut."

Percy looked down at his hands as they wrestled with each other for dominance.

Healer Marshall decided to soften her approach. "She may not be as loving toward them as what you're used to, but I can guarantee she won't allow any harm to come to your children. The instinct to protect them will be too strong for her to fight."

Without looking up, Percy bobbed his head in acknowledgement. "I hope you're right," he managed softly.

After allowing a few moments for this new information to settle, Percy started. "You mentioned a second point that you needed to discuss with me before I so rudely interrupted you?"

"As I said, the bond Pansy shares with you is quite volatile right now. So much so that it has the potential to warp her magical core."

"Are you saying she's still in danger?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Healer Marshall confirmed.

"So… So, does this mean we'll have to be kept apart?" he asked, fearful of the answer.

"No, quite the opposite actually. I know she was unkind toward you back in her room but believe it or not, your presence actually calmed her considerably."

"I'm sorry. What?" Percy stuttered.

"How do I explain this?" she mumbled to herself. "Because _your_ magical core as well as _your_ side of the bond are both solid and unharmed, _you_ will be able to act as a stabilizer for her. She will need your constant presence to properly convalesce."

Percy blinked a few times in shock. "Does… does that mean I have to stay here with her?"

"Oh no, no, no. You can take her home… Today actually."

"Today?" Percy squeaked. "Isn't that kind of soon?"

"As long as she's with you, she should be fine. We'll have an attendant stay with you for a week or so to monitor her and tend to her medical needs," Healer Marshall chirped pleasantly as she stood and collected her files.

"You mean to keep her in line," he corrected.

"That too. I'll just go make the arrangements." And with that, the whirlwind was gone.

After a deep, haggard breath, Percy dragged himself out of the chair and began to meander about the office, perusing all the minor points of interest the tiny space had to offer. He allowed his mind to wander to the difficult time that lay ahead. Living with Pansy as she was now would be no easy task. Perhaps she wouldn't be too cruel once she was surrounded by her comforts.

Unlike the last time, the door eased open timidly and the portly medi-witch edged into the room, uncertainty marring her brow. "It would appear a miscommunication amongst the hospital staff has lead to your wife's early release."

"What?" Percy burst out loudly.

"It would seem that Mrs. Weasley somehow managed to contact her father, and insisted he come and sign her release forms. She left with him a half an hour ago."

An undeniable sense of both relief and dread washed over Percy at the same time. He had been granted a short reprieve from Pansy's wrath. She could never make things easy for him though, could she?

--

Pansy sat staring out the drawing room window onto the street, unwavering in her focus but lost to its actual intent. Three days. Three days she'd been home, and for three days this had been her compulsive existence. To either sit in this armchair and scan the passing traffic for what she did not know, or to wander through the many rooms of her father's house on her hunt.

The purpose no longer mattered as it had upon her arrival home. When she had initially crossed the threshold, the sense that she'd misplaced something was both overwhelming and exceedingly annoying. Now, she could only recognize the necessity to remain vigilant in her search.

After a few minutes of observing the world going about its day, her wearied mind drifted from its steadfast perch, and slipped easily into her daydreams. She'd long since abandoned her self-reproach over the Weasel and their litter. She'd spent the better part of her first day home interrogating her father as to the 'whys' and 'hows' of that particular nightmare. He had been about as helpful as McGonagall giving love advice. She suspected the incompetent fools at St. Mungo's had something to do with that.

After learning everything she could from the little he revealed, she had resolved quite logically that it made little difference to her anyway. That it was all in her past. _They_ did not have to be in her future. She could do whatever she wanted with her life, the rodent and his critters be damned. Throughout the second day, she formulated a detailed plan to divorce the tosser as soon as she was fully recovered.

She'd take three quarters of what meager possessions they in all likelihood owned. He was a Weasley. How much could they possibly have? She had to leave him with something though. No one could accuse her of being completely heartless…. He could keep their offspring. As it was, she wanted nothing more to do with them and would never acknowledge them as her own. Visions of the drama she knew would unfold danced merrily over the stage of her mind's eye. It had been her main source of entertainment over the last few long days.

Suddenly wrenched out of her reverie by her intensifying fatigue, Pansy drew in a heavy breath. It flooded into her lungs and pushed achingly at her chest cavity to expand and accommodate its presence. She held the air within her for a few seconds, reveling in the brief respite stillness afforded her, then exhaled slowly. With the release of air, she felt her will to hold her normally exemplary posture escape her, and her shoulders sagged further forward, accentuating her growing slouch. A sharp, dry squeezing had begun to clench her eyes, making it difficult to keep them open, and she could feel the skin of the hollows beneath them twinge and prickle. At her body's subtle persistence, her eyelids began to droop and she felt herself being enveloped by a soothing darkness.

"And how are you this morning, Petal?"

Pansy jumped slightly at the sound of her father's voice and, with glazed eyes, turned her head sharply in his direction. Before fully taking him in, however, she allowed herself to deflate back into the warmth of the cushions and resume her dazed, fixed gaze.

"Morning, daddy," she mumbled quietly.

Robert Parkinson eyed his daughter covertly on his way to his desk, forcing down the sounding alarm in his head at her steadily weakening state.

"And what do we have on the agenda for today?" he asked jovially, attempting to infuse some lightness to the sickroom atmosphere.

"Nmm…" she hummed incoherently, as her focus was drawn back outside.

Robert Parkinson shook his head in utter despair. This shriveled, distracted excuse for a woman was not his irrepressible little girl. His precious flower was vibrant, and saucy, and thoroughly brilliant. Not some delusional obsessed with squirreling out hidden treasure.

He looked away swiftly overcome by painful memories. This was just too hard to witness - his princess devolving into madness. It was far too reminiscent of another wrenching loss. Unable to fight off the twisted need, he looked back at his child and fully drank in her appearance. Although she had always taken after him in spirit, she was the mirror image of her mother. And if he wasn't mistaken, she was the same age now as when her mother had died.

What had he done to deserve this? Did his wrongs in this life actually merit him losing both of his girls? It would be the most brutal kind of justice. He'd never been the praying sort but he was willing to do or give anything in that moment to have his Petal back. Hopefully the healers were right. Drawing his pocket watch from his robes and glancing at its face, he felt his patience wearing thin. Where, the devil, were they?

Abruptly, a knock came to the drawing room door. Parkinson's eyes snapped to the source of the sound. He schooled his expression not a moment later, and drove his eyes down to his work to conceal the relief washing over his face.

For her part, Pansy started visibly. Her heart began to hammer and she forced herself out of the chair as she stared at the door keenly. Anxiety pierced her like a tossed stone skipping over water. Each pang of nerves rippled outward from its source and grew tenfold.

"Enter!" her father called with a put on lilt of boredom in his voice.

A dour little elf slowly moved into the room and cleared his throat.

"Yes, Archibald?" Parkinson asked without looking up.

"They're here, master."

Pansy watched the exchange with sharp interest. Then like a caged animal, she began to pace along the far wall lined with books, eyeing both the door and her father wildly. It had come. They had come whoever 'they' were. She couldn't decide if this was a good or bad thing. Whoever it was… whatever it was, she was fairly certain they had what she'd been looking for.

"Show them in," Parkinson doled out, trying unsuccessfully to hide the smile lighting his features.

"They?" Pansy barked, as she backed into the darkened corner in a misguided need for concealment.

Finally, he raised his eyes to meet hers. "My grandchildren."

--

**dreamaway78:** I think you've come to see Pansy very much the same way as I have. I used to think she was a right bitch. But now I'm of the firm mind it was a cover for insecurity. To be honest, I wasn't a fan of Percy before, but I thoroughly and totally adore him now. lol.

**Rolax15: **Um... thank you, I think. lol. just teasing. I'm quite fond of the first one, but I'm blushing you have such confidence in me.

**autumnlover: **What do you think? ;D Thank you so much. I just love writing. It's like playing in a sand box with the hose.

**Grande.Vanilla.Skim.Latte:** YAY! That's exactly what I was going for. You have no idea how hard it's been to make her nasty again. My muse version of her is fighting me tooth and nail.

**QueenoftheClumsyDorks: **She thought it was a joke Draco was trying to play on her. No need to be vicious if it's a prank. Just wait though now that she knows it's real. And I'll give you this much. Draco is up to something.

**peealasbut:** Thanks so much :)

**cinroc:** Thanks :) I'm trying to make them little individuals. And the lovin' may not come... right away ;)

**Sullen Shadowhawk:** Thank you :) I'll try not to make you wait as long between chapters. But I'm a bit obsessed sometimes with getting the story just right.

**alias: **Thanks for the understanding. Life gets in the way a lot... lol. And I'm so picky with what I post sometimes.

**ClumsyTonks:** I hope this chapter answered your question. Thank you kindly. I love the kids. I want to make each one an individual. Not just a mob of three that travel in a pack :)

**qt4good:** Draco has an ulterior motive. He is not as selfless as one might think... but is he ever :D

**I am Green: **It might take a bit to untangle this mess. Bear with me :)

**Avanell:** You know how much I love my memory stories. lol. They're just too much fun. The girl is fantastic. Just turned 8 months on th 21st. I'll send some pics. You sound crazy busy. Hope your making some time for yourself.

**SOP:** lol. I had fun with that. Made my hubby sputter and he's not even an HP fan. lol.


	4. Bloody Impossible

**A/N: Oh Ma Gawd! This chapter nearly killed me. I'm sorry for the delay but the chapter got away from me and turned into a monster. I had to break it into two. Anyway, enough of my whining.**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my good mood.

Chapter 4 – _"Bloody Impossible"_

"Grandchildren?" Pansy muttered to herself, trying to fathom the meaning of the word and how it applied to her.

Unmoving, she watched the open yet vacant doorway, nearly suffocating in the wrenches of anticipation. Suddenly a tall, lanky ginger haired figure stepped into her line of vision, and she froze. All of her coherency bled away as only the compulsion to scan his features and hungrily cache away the sight of him overwhelmed her.

He was speaking to her father now, but somehow the words just weren't making it to her ears. All she saw was his eyes… his smile… his lips moving, all in slow motion. She felt something indescribable building up in her chest when suddenly a sharp tug on the bottom of her robes grabbed her attention.

She looked down to find a chubby little face beaming up at her. The baby released her dress and wobbled uncertainly as he stretched up his arms to her. Once he'd reached his full height, he began to clench and unclench his hands, balling them up into tiny little fists then unfurling them to their extreme.

"What's this? I don't understand this?" Pansy softly ribbed him, emulating the small boy's hand motions.

The child giggled at her teasing and persisted with his nonverbal request, falling into her and pushing back off every now and then when he lost his balance. Thoroughly enthralled by the look of devilish glee in his eyes, Pansy simply watched the boy. After nearly a minute of this, the slight falter of his toothy grin warned her that his patience was about to run out. Before he could make the full swing from happy cherub to squealing banshee at her inaction, Pansy swooped down and hauled the baby into her arms.

"Upsy daisy, Robbie!" she grunted as she lifted the child onto her hip.

As quickly as the impending storm had come on, the baby's face cleared of all upset. Instead he chose to place his sticky, little hands on her cheeks, her nose, into her hair, and finally back onto her cheeks, softly babbling nonsense the whole while. She gave him her full attention and offered up the odd "Really?" and "That's unbelievable!" as means of encouraging his discourse. She just had to keep him talking. He was altogether too surreal. It was like looking at a miniature version of her father.

Across the room, the quiet conversation between husband and father-in-law fell silent as their focus was drawn to mother and child. Feeling their eyes on her, Pansy tore her sights away from the boy and glanced over to meet their gaze head on.

"Yes?" she quipped primly.

Both men stood utterly flabbergasted. Pansy became unnerved by the intensity of their stare. There was far too much meaning in their eyes that she simply did not understand.

"What? Am I doing it wrong?" she panicked.

Her question snapped Percy from his daze. He shook his head roughly and launched himself toward her. "No, no. Not at all… Sorry about that. He's rather… um… Here, let me…"

"I'm fine, thank you," she growled, moving away from him and placing the length of the settee between them. "He's fine. Aren't you, Robbie?" she directed the last to the boy in her arms who giggled in response.

"See!" she leveled at Percy.

"I… I know. I just didn't want you… him to…" Percy stammered.

She scrunched up her forehead in confusion at his jilted sentence until its meaning hit her square in the chest and her eyes widened in indignation. "I won't drop him," she spat viciously and sat on the couch, babe still tightly held in arms.

"Of course you won't. I didn't mean… I know he's perfectly safe…" Percy fumbled, looking down.

He turned away thoroughly abashed and tried to gather his wits. _'Not two minutes talking with her and you've already stepped in it,'_ he scolded himself, _'not to mention the fact that you sound like a jabbering idiot.'_

This just wasn't going to work if he continued to let her affect him like this. He had to focus. Pansy's voice edged its way into his thoughts.

"What's he doing?" she asked tensely.

Percy turned around and found that his son had taken Pansy's entire chin in his mouth. She was holding the child stiffly and looking extremely nonplussed. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

"Sorry. He used to bite us on the chin or nose when he first started teething. I guess the gnawing felt good. It kind of grew into an affectionate… well… It's his way of kissing you."

"He's kissing me?" Pansy asked skeptically, shifting only her eyes over to Percy.

"Yes," Percy mumbled as he fidgeted anxiously at her less than impressed tone. "I can take him if it's bothering you."

"No, that's fine. It's fine," she responded stoically.

"Lucky thing it wasn't your nose actually," he offered with nervous joviality. "He has quite a few teeth now."

"Yes," Pansy responded coolly.

As if sensing her final acceptance of the gesture, Robbie released her chin, placed his head on her shoulder, and nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck.

"He's not falling asleep, is he?" Pansy asked, her voice trembling between hope and dread.

"No, he's just hankering for a cuddle. He's used to getting them every day, and what with you being here instead, he's been a little…" Percy trailed off.

"Yes, I get the picture," she interjected tersely, rolling her eyes yet cinching her arms closer around the baby.

After a yawning silence, Percy cleared his throat and drove on with his plan. "So, your father tells me you have very little in the way of –"

"Of what?" she snipped dismissively.

"Of… of clothing, toiletries, other… things," he continued, undeterred by her lack of interest.

Lips pinched, Pansy shot her father a black look. "Yes, well I was planning on a little shopping excursion once I was feeling more recovered."

"What… what are you going to do until then?" Percy pushed on, now questioning the merit of the scheme.

"It should only be another few days," she answered back with more confidence than she was feeling.

Percy gave a quick nod and looked down and away as if doing some quick calculations. "Would you like something from the house? You know, to tie you over," he offered meekly, glancing back up.

"I want nothing from that hovel," she spouted pompously.

"Pansy dear," her father finally piped in, "I would hardly call your home a hovel."

"And what would you call it, daddy?"

Parkinson pondered the question for a moment. "The word 'estate' comes to mind, Petal."

She quirked an intrigued eyebrow at him, but despite her intense curiosity, she let her questions about their home drop. "I'm not really up for traveling," she murmured as she looked back down at her son who was now playing with the frills of lace on her robes.

"You don't have to. If you let me know what you need, I could gather some things for you and have them brought over," Percy supplied.

"I hardly know what I have, you dunce. If you recall, I don't remember any of it. How could I possibly give you a list without first seeing what's available to me?" She looked about at nothing in particular agitated by his obvious stupidity.

"Yes, but if you knew the kinds of things you might need, then I could –" Percy tried.

"I suppose I'll have to make the trek," she sighed to herself in a very put upon manner, ignoring his offer.

Percy tried to suppress the grin curling his lips. Pansy was reacting exactly how he and her father had hoped. She would come with him under the guise of retrieving her things in a bid to scope out their house. Once he got her there, then perhaps when she saw…

"How will we get there?" her voice cut into his plotting.

"Side-along apparition," he answered her plainly.

"You mean I have to touch you?" she reeled back in disgust.

Percy's face flushed red and his jaw clenched tightly as ire clouded his eyes. Before he could retort, an airy voice came from the door. "Hello, mummy."

All three adults turned quickly to take in the little girl in the doorway. Pansy's eyes became wide liquid pools, and she swallowed down the alarmingly fast growing lump in her throat. The child from the hospital was real. She'd been hoping it had all been a dream, but the proof of this reality was standing there across the way.

"Hello, angel," Percy rejoined warmly with a wide smile.

Pansy, still unable to speak, looked up at him in awe. His previous anger at her was completely forgotten when addressing the girl. The child skipped in, gave her father a squeeze, and then came to stand in front of Pansy. It was unbelievably unsettling. Those eyes... her mother's... were driving into her. She felt the incredible urge to squirm under the child's intense scrutiny.

Finally looking down unable to maintain the connection, Pansy muttered, "You… your hair is a mess." It was all she could manage.

Penny smiled and tripped confidently a few steps closer to her mother. "Here," she responded softly, handing Pansy a comb.

Pansy's eyes poured over the object. "This is mine," she mumbled in strained amazement.

"Mummy, I hope you don't mind but I visited your room to put Gretchen on your pillow."

"Gretchen? What… Who's Gretchen?" Pansy asked, drawn out of her distraction by confusion.

"You know. My pygmy puff," Penny clarified.

"You put a pygmy puff on my pillow?" Pansy asked flatly.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"So you wouldn't be lonely."

"I'm not lonely," Pansy answered, affronted.

"Yes, you are, mummy."

The astute observation completely floored Pansy. Penny turned around and took her mother's stunned silence as her opportunity to start a ramble about the inconsequential points of her day. Pansy stared at the back of the child's head vacantly for a long moment before inhaling sharply through her nose and recomposing herself. She shifted the dozing boy in her arms to a more secure position and then began to run the comb through the girl's hair. This wasn't so bad. She could handle motherhood if this was all there was to it. She wasn't fool enough to actually believe that though.

Letting the image soak through him, Percy took one last look at the muted picture before stealing softly over to his father-in-law. Once situated at his side, both men quietly watched the scene unfolding before them.

"Thank Merlin Healer Marshall was right about Pansy and the children," Robert murmured under his breath so only Percy could hear.

"I'm still not convinced," Percy responded tightly.

"Look at her. What more convincing do you need?"

"You and I both know how she can turn on a galleon. I don't want the children to be on the receiving end of her cruelty when she's having an off day."

"Neither do I, but you have to admit, Weasley, they do wonders for her mood."

"They shouldn't be expected to carry that burden," he hissed back in a harsh whisper.

"Give it a rest, Percy. She's fine with them and they need her."

Both men fell silent as they continued to observe their family.

"There's still Miranda." Percy stated grimly. Robert shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his first grandchild's name.

"She loves her mother. She'll get past it," Robert answered him with as much conviction as he could muster.

"We'll see," Percy offered up with an air of finality.

As if sensing the topic of their conversation, Pansy scoped about suddenly, realizing something was missing. "Mira? Miranda?" When no response came, Pansy felt a frenzy of panic begin to bubble within her. "Where's Mira?" she demanded, pinning a fierce glare on Percy.

"Miranda has gone shopping for school supplies," Percy responded with practiced calm.

"School supplies?"

"She received her Hogwarts letter a couple of weeks ago. You two were going to make a day of it but –"

"But –" Pansy cut herself off though, the answer perfectly clear. She glanced about unseeing for a few moments before leveling him with a dark glare. "Who did she go with instead?"

Percy took a tense breath, gathering his courage for the unavoidable argument to come. "My sister, Ginny, took her."

"Ginny Weasley? That little bi –"

"Mind your language," he barked at her and then pointedly looked at the two small children who were now watching their exchange devoutly with wide eyes.

Sensing the need for some kind of intervention, Robert jumped from his position beside his desk and scurried over to the group. "Come along, chicklets. Time to tell gramps all about your summer schemes."

"But grandpa, it's just getting good," Penny pleaded.

"Penelope, your parents need to work some things out." Penny opened her mouth to argue her point, but Robert broke in first, "In private."

He pried his grandson from Pansy's clutching arms and escorted his tiny crew quickly from the room. Both Percy and Pansy watched their departure closely. Once they were gone, Percy flicked his wand toward the doorway and the door shut. A few more charms, and the room had been both muffilato-ed and imperturbed.

"Mira is _my_ daughter. It's my place to go with her," Pansy screeched at him.

"_Your _daughter? Perhaps physically but you don't even remember her, and I'd hardly call your behaviour back at St. Mungo's motherly to say the least," Percy announced quickly as he tucked his wand back into his cloak.

Pansy visibly bristled. "Don't change the subject. _Your _sister is going to fill _my_ daughter's head with utter trash about which house is best."

"That's ridiculous, Pansy."

"Is it?" she challenged.

"Oh, come off it. We already know which house Miranda is headed for."

"And which house would that be? Gryffindor?" she snarled at him, shooting up off the couch and into his personal space.

"That just proves how little you remember _your_ daughter," he snapped back viciously.

"Where? Where is Miranda going in _your_ opinion, you insufferable wanker?"

"She's already decided she wants to be in Hufflepuff."

Mouth hanging open ever so slightly, Pansy stared at him in shock for a good ten seconds before doubling over in a fit of giggles.

"You've got to be kidding me. My daughter… my daughter is a Huffie Puff?" With that Pansy began to laugh even harder as she staggered back to the settee and collapsed in a heap upon its cushions.

Percy went absolutely rigid as his lips pressed into a tense, thin line.

Upon spotting his souring mood, Pansy stopped abruptly and gaped at him in disbelief. "You're not serious. Why, the devil, would we allow her to… to… The puffiest of huffies?"

"We encourage our children to be who and what they want to be," he quipped sharply, but Pansy merely huffed in response. "We also do not allow history or family opinion to colour their decisions. Miranda is very sensitive, but extremely protective and loyal. It's just who she is."

"That doesn't alter the fact that she's still _my_ daughter whether you like it or not and I say I should've been the one with her to pick out her first wand."

"She didn't want you there," he blurted out, incensed.

"Excuse me?" she stammered breathlessly.

Percy paused to choose his next words carefully. "Seeing you at the hospital was hard on her. You weren't exactly the mother she knows." He hesitated and shifted awkwardly. "She chose not to come today."

Pansy felt a sudden inexplicable swell choke her. "You could have made her," she lobbed at him, the accusation thick in her voice.

"Make her come? Why, the hell, would I do that? So you could just throw more insults at her?" he hurled right back.

Pansy vaulted off the settee and moved to the window in one swift motion, putting her back firmly to the room. Why did she care so much? Why did this cut so deeply? She barely knew this child. She didn't _want_ to know this child.

Regretting his tactlessness, Percy began to wring his hands only to have them find their way into his hair. "I'm sorry. She'll get over it in a few days."

"Fine," Pansy bit out.

"Like I said she's always been sensitive," he tried weakly to reassure her to which Pansy gave no response.

After a full minute of excruciating silence, Percy finally couldn't take the weight of the almost tangible tension in the air.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked softly as he tentatively held out his hand to her.

Pansy gave him a sharp sideways glance, narrowed her eyes, and then glared at the proffered hand in disgust. The idea of even touching the beanpole was thoroughly nauseating let alone holding his hand.

"Is it absolutely necessary? I mean, wouldn't it be easier if I simply flooed? Or walked?" Pansy whinged.

Dropping his hand to his side, Percy pinned her with a withering glare. "The healers said you won't be able to use the floo for a few weeks, and we both know you wouldn't walk anywhere. You don't remember the house, so there's no way for you to get there except through side-along apparation."

She regarded him with open defiance for several long seconds before letting out a long puff of air.

"Fine! If I must, then I suppose I must," she announced through an exaggerated pout.

Forcing her shoulders down and back and sticking out her chin with cool pride, Pansy tentatively reached her hand out to him, feeling her stomach curdle at the contact to come. She imagined his hand to be clammy and skeletal, and felt the snake of repugnance slither further through her insides.

A ripple of tension rolled through Percy's jaw, and a flush crept up his neck, threatening to invade his face. Without warning, he reached out, snatched at her hand roughly, and tugged her toward him. The swift, unexpected movement caused Pansy to tumble forward into his slim frame.

The sudden impact instantly sent a buzz straight through her, landing in the cradle of her ribcage. The sensation was electric, both pleasurable and needling at the same time. It was as if she were completely hammered and yet hyper aware. Unable to stop herself, Pansy reached up with her free hand, and slowly curled her fingers around his dress shirt, taking a greedy fistful of the material. Her addled, hazy mind first established that the barrier separating her hand from flesh would have to be removed and then it focused on how quickest to bring that about.

--

**Rolax15: **Here I am. I'm so sorry about that. This chapter drove me to my knees.

**Vinese: **Thank you so much.

**ginger28:** Yay me!! Yay you!! Where have you been lately? Call me.

**cinroc:** It's a toush situation for both and it's only going to get rougher.

**stoneofpurity:** Losing your mother young has some pretty far reaching consequences. Sometimes though, people are just jerks. lol. It might be a bit of both for Pansy.

**autumnlover: **And it's only going to get more complicated.

**Sullen Shadowhawk:** I can't help being mean to good old Perce sometimes. He's just begging for it. Don't worry though. I have some goodies in store for him ;)

**Avanell:** Her father really didn't have much choice what with her insisting. Like I'd keep her there long anyway. What fun would that be? And you have to know the whole mess is complicated. It's one of my stories... LOL.

**I am Green: **Yes. well our Percy is pretty crafty. He'll find a way ;)


	5. If The Robes Fit

**A/N: First off, happy new year to all!!! Now I just want to apologize for seemingly dropping off the face of the planet. My only excuse is that my daughter learned to crawl and cruise, and life for me at that point changed completely. I understand if interest in this story has waned but I'm determined to finish it if for no other reason than its been nagging at me like crazy. Anyway, enough of my groveling. Enjoy and let me know what you think.  
**

Chapter 5 – _If The Robes Fit_

Percy listed dangerously to the side, stunned by the jolting kick-start their bond had made at the initiation of physical contact. The subsequent warm purr of their magic blending had his head swimming through thick, intoxicating waves of lust. After a few moments of being caught up in a sea of sensation, Percy managed to locate his centre. He gave his head a quick shake and drove his focus onto the front hall of their home. Without warning, apparation wrapped them both in its sickening squeeze.

Feeling as though her innards were on the verge of being crushed, Pansy clutched tighter to the man in her arms and, clenching her eyes shut as she felt herself nearing the edge of unconsciousness, pressed her forehead against his chest. Within seconds though the feeling was gone and the silence that encompassed her world was deafening.

Glancing about, Percy took in his surroundings then looked down. Pansy was still holding his hand, but at some point had wrapped her other arm tightly around his waist and had her face buried in his shirt. The feel of her supple body pressed firmly against his was sending his ability to form coherent thought into a tailspin. The temptation to fold his free arm around her was almost crippling.

Instead, Percy cleared his throat loudly and waited for her to acknowledge their position. Completely disoriented, Pansy nuzzled her face further into his chest and gave a slight whimper. Percy shuddered and released a muted groan of his own, but resolved to put an end to the precarious moment.

"Come on, love, we're here," he mumbled.

His eyes fell shut as he winced at the accidental endearment. It was nearly impossible for him not to slip back into their old ways, especially when she was gripping him so closely. But all it took he acknowledged was for her to regain herself and he'd be thrust into a world of humiliation and self doubt.

Pansy sighed deeply and, placing her chin on his chest, looked up at him. Percy could not… Would not meet her gaze. Their current state of affairs was difficult enough without him getting lulled by her deep, chocolate brown eyes. It took Pansy a few long seconds of staring at his face turned determinedly to the side before she realized the wrongness of what she was doing. Mortified, she violently drew herself back, and with trembling hands began to straighten her appearance.

'_How thoroughly embarrassing!'_ she inwardly scolded herself. There was no denying she was the one clinging to him.

Unwilling to examine the reasons for the past few moments too closely, Pansy instead chose to glance about at her new environment. She inhaled a slow reverent breath at what she beheld, and began to stagger slightly backward in a small circle. The room itself must have been twice the size of her father's dining hall. The floor was a large black and white checkered marble floor and the walls were a pristine white. A massive crystal chandelier hung brilliantly over the yawning space and a large, round mahogany table with an exquisite display of white orchids graced the centre of the room. It was magnificent. It was decadent. It was sleek.

"This is our home?" she panted.

"Yes," Percy managed in quiet pride, the approval written all over her bolstering his hope. "Well actually, it's the front hall. Did you want to see the rest of the house? If not, we can just gather your things and go if you prefer."

"Is the rest of the house as grand as this?" she asked, disregarding the second part of his proposal.

"As what… the front hall?"

"Yes," she snapped waspishly, cutting a nasty glare his way.

"Um… yes. In my opinion it is," he offered reluctantly, demurring at her volatility.

"But… but you're a Weasley," she stammered, still too caught up in her appraisal of the room to be aware of how deeply her insult would pierce him.

`"Yes, quite astounding really," Percy responded flatly, feeling his newly acquired optimism deflate. "On second thought, perhaps today isn't an ideal time for a tour."

The abruptness of his tone instantly drew her attention. It didn't take a legimillen to sense that he was put out. Not that she truly cared about his feelings, but it struck her that she had to keep him amiable for at least the next few hours if she was going finagle a viewing of the rest of the house. Their home was not what she'd expected. She simply had to see it to fully understand what she could lay claim to, and if that meant flirting with the Weasel to keep him happy then so be it. She steeled herself for the unsavoury task ahead and set her shoulders back.

Allowing a playful smirk to squirrel its way onto her lips, Pansy sauntered lazily over to him, linked her arm with his, and gave a light sigh at the rekindling of their latent connection. The heated buzz was having some rather interesting effects on her mind and body.

"Why not? I haven't got anything else planned for the day," she purred, gazing up at him through her lashes.

Percy flushed red right to the tips of his ears, and looked down shyly at his feet. A shiver of pleasure rippled down her spine and she gasped in shock. Where had that come from? Was that her, or had he caused it somehow?

Knowing his wife too well, Percy unwillingly disentangled himself from her, fighting against his instinct to draw her closer. His girl never made such an about face in mood and action unless she was up to something.

"But I do," he countered, trying to ignore the fullness of her pout at his withdrawal. "This home doesn't pay for itself and I have a lot of work to catch up on," he offered up lamely as he put a good ten feet between them.

"Because of my accident?" she asked in a soft, lilting voice, never taking her fierce gaze off him.

"Y- yes, in a manner of speaking," he stuttered nervously.

"Because you dropped everything to be by my side." Her voice had fallen to almost a whisper and she had begun to cautiously slink toward him.

"I guess you could –"

"And I've been so inconsiderate and mean to you," Pansy simpered as she laced the fingers of her right hand through his left and then with calculated precision, brought her other hand up to toy with the buttons of his dress shirt. And there it was again, the gentle thrumming inside her, growing more persistent and forceful.

Percy, not immune to the stirrings of their mingling magic, visibly swallowed and tried to avoid making eye contact. Now he knew she was up to something. "Pansy, today is just not a good day for a tour of the house," he managed through a shaking voice.

She stepped in closer, her body now a whisper away from his, and took up his other hand. "Then perhaps you should just take me to my bedroom."

A high-pitched squeak emitted from deep within him at the suggestion playing darkly in her eyes. He quickly cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure by looking anywhere but at her.

"So I can get my things," she finally amended, but not before she had hit her mark and landed the insinuation. She might not get to see the house today, but better to keep him under her thumb than fighting her. That was at least what she was trying to convince herself.

"Of…of course. Did you want to walk there? Or… or would you rather just apparate?" he fumbled awkwardly.

Why was her behaviour having such an effect on him? They'd been married for ten years. He knew her wiles intimately, and she obviously didn't mean what she was implying. Why was he acting like such a nervous teenager? Their bond had never felt so blatant before. It was always just a subtle hum. Now it felt like a thundering river, madly pounding in his ears.

She leaned in closer, tilted her chin up, and murmured, "As you said before, I don't walk. So perhaps you should just _take_ me."

The edges of her reasoning were beginning to blur. Seeing the house at this point in time held very little importance. Seeing the inside of a bedroom, however, was paramount.

"Right," Percy mumbled, becoming entranced by her nearing features. Her lips… her eyes… This was not good, but at the moment he couldn't exactly fathom why.

----------

Suddenly, the solitude of the vacant bedroom was disrupted by two seemingly still figures, its absolute silence shattered by their slow, deep, ragged breaths. Their eyes fixed, hungrily ravaging the other's features... their hands still held fiercely, as if onto a lifeline. Paralyzed by want and past resolutions power, the two stood transfixed in an electrifying trance.

Identity and self-awareness had fled with the perseverance of their physical connection, and a force more powerful was quickly taking control. At what seemed the peak of the frenetic energy surging just below the surface, the man began to walk forward with a slow sureness that belied his inner state, edging the willing female backward in a soundless kind of dance. When her calves finally brushed the end of the king size bed, she sat but refused to relinquish her hold on her partner.

Her eyes were dark and ravenous as they taunted him to take the next step. His hands trembled as they itched to take her up on her wordless challenge. She released his hands in order to recline and lay out more appealingly what she had to offer. In a brief moment of clarity as the lust clouding his mind lifted, Percy shuffled back three jilted steps. He regarded her with no less want, but the addition of apprehension marred the perfection of his desire.

It was this spirit of doubt swimming in his eyes that triggered a horrid realization in Pansy. What were they doing? What was _she_ doing? She wanted to coax him into a more pliant, cooperative state, not have him naked and writhing beneath her.

'_Where did that come from?'_ she considered in passing.

Before she had the presence of mind to sit up from her inviting pose, Percy turned and gave his back to her, averting his gaze from having to witness her crushing yet inevitable withdrawal. The abrupt disconnect of the bond was so jarring that Pansy involuntarily curled forward in pain and gasped for air.

Unaware of her struggle behind him, Percy began to wage an internal debate on why he'd let himself get tangled up again in her and how best to proceed. He'd known damn well this was coming. Why he'd let himself get lulled back into her was a mystery. True she was being playful and sweet, but he knew she was only doing it because she was after something…. namely a viewing of the house.

'_Probably wants to see how much she can take me for,'_ he steamed silently.

Feeling a sharp stab of resentment, Percy sniffed stiffly as a ripple of tension played its way through his jaw.

Ready to be unbending and businesslike, he swiveled back around to face her only to find her clutching at her chest and panting frantically. His resolution of coldness quickly forgotten, he vaulted forward, landing in a crouch at her feet.

"Sweet Merlin love, are you all right?" he stammered, placing his hands on her upper arms and giving them a light rub.

"Don't touch me! Get your hands off me, you toss pot!" she barked as she roughly pulled her arms from his grasp and launched herself off the bed and into a flustered, blind walk about the room.

Percy let her agitation and insult settle into his core, then resignedly stood and sat in the newly vacated spot at the end of the bed. He chose a point on the lush rug and bore all of his withering hurt and loss into it. Things were never going to be the same again. She'd never remember what they'd had together. He, unfortunately, had a perfect memory and would never be able to let her go. As things stood, it seemed quite definite that he'd spend the rest of his life loving a woman who loathed him.

After a few long minutes, Pansy finally managed to corral her anger and frustration. Obviously getting him wrapped around her little finger was not going to work. For some ungodly reason, he seemed to have a greater affect on her than she did on him. Damn that bloody marriage bond. No wonder she'd wanted the sodding thing dissolved.

She turned her eyes on the man and found him hunched over lost in his own painful thoughts. A pang close to pity spiked through her but she quickly brushed the notion aside.

"So this is my room?" she asked coolly, sending her nose further into the air.

Heaving a large sigh, Percy hefted himself up and answered on the exhale, "Yes. Yes, it is."

"I guess it's adequate," she spouted pompously, attempting to belittle the grandeur of the room. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Where do you sleep?"

"I… I have my own room."

The lie fell flat between them and Percy scoped about anxiously unable to meet her assessing gaze.

"Really?" Pansy snapped back. "That's a surprise. From what I understood, you Weasels liked being huddled up in one dingy, little room. Like a den of… well… weasels." She began to titter at her own lame joke. "To be perfectly honest, I half expected to find the little rodents bunked up with us as well."

She waited for an outburst accompanied by righteous indignation, but it never came. Instead he stared at her with such a wrenching disappointment that she thought she should burst into flame from its sheer intensity.

"Yes. Well being incredibly rich does have its privileges," he finally mumbled in a low, emotionless voice. "Speaking of which, if you'll excuse me I have a great deal of paper work. If you need anything just call for Tibby and she'll be more than happy to oblige you." With that, he began a slowly steady pace toward the door.

He was dismissing her. Who was _he_ to dismiss _her_? "You're leaving?" she lobbed at him in a high-pitched shriek.

He turned back slowly. "Yes. It should be fairly easy for you to find everything you need."

"Aren't you worried I might steal or break something?" she shot back, trying to prod him.

"It's all yours, Pansy," he huffed at her ridiculous assertion. "Do whatever the hell you want with it. I… I don't care."

He turned quickly, grabbed the brass doorknob, and swiftly slammed the door shut behind him on his way out. He hadn't even given her a chance to get another word in edgewise. She stared blankly at the space he'd just been occupying, feeling her insides curdle with bubbling ire that had lost its only outlet.

"Ponce," she finally spat darkly before turning a discerning eye to the room.

She had to admit it was beautifully decorated and triple the size of her room at her father's house. The walls and plush rug that adorned the floor were bathed in warm, rich colours and the furniture was a luscious, dark oak. The fact that it was her taste to a tee did little to put her mind at ease. Even more perturbing was her growing desire to simply stay.

As she continued to wander through the room, idly looking through various drawers, poring over her vast assortment of decadent jewelry and toiletries, and perusing a large but oddly half empty walk in closet, she tried to rationalize legitimate reasons for remaining instead of returning to her father's house.

She told herself that she wouldn't be able to transport even half of all this back and she wanted everything she saw. Further, her private quarters at her father's would feel cramped and confining compared to this. Finally, her father had been far too coddling over the last few days. The Weasel would most likely give her the space she wanted if she demanded it.

The niggling cognizance that her wanting to stay had more to do with being near said man rather than the logical reasons she'd come up with was becoming harder to ignore. As much as she disliked him, there was something truly addictive about the energy he exuded. She hadn't felt this good in days. As she looked about the room, she became acutely aware of all the gaps his obvious departure had caused when he vacated the room for her. She wasn't exactly sure how to feel about his lie. On the one hand, she was relieved that she wouldn't have to endure his presence. On the other, however, curiosity was eating her alive at what the room looked like when complete.

Coming to a decision, Pansy sat down at the side of the bed and pulled opened the nightstand drawer as her final step to fully investigate the room. It was clear the tosser had forgotten this one. It was full of papers, a stack of what appeared to be bound letters, and a few photos.

The papers were nothing of consequence in her estimation – just a list of ingredients for different potions. She tossed them back into the drawer and reached for the letters. It only took one glance for her to recognize who they were from. Did she really want to read what were probably love letters from the weasel? Was she ready for that? Did she actually want to make herself sick? She scoffed at the last question and placed them back in the drawer, resolving to read them at a later time. As distasteful as the exercise would undoubtedly prove, she knew she'd be able to glean some rather useful information from them.

The colour and movement of the photographs then caught her eye. They were of the children. Of her or him laughing or smiling with the little monsters. As she flipped through, she felt herself growing angrier and agitated. Suddenly, the last photo in the bunch faced her and she felt herself go rigid. A swirl of mortification and sick fascination snaked its way around her insides. She watched frozen as the events of the photo replayed itself.

It was of her watching her 'husband' with a disgustingly clear expression of adoration as he related a story to someone off camera. Suddenly, her photo self reached up, hooked his far cheek with a sole finger, and turned his face to hers. Then Pansy watched in horror as her photo self planted a fierce kiss on the wanker, who in turn wrapped his arms happily around the image of her. It was there that the photo stopped and began to replay itself. With each viewing, she felt humiliation, revulsion, and something far too close to envy for her liking blossom in her chest. This disturbing, revolting display was her life?

"Not if I can help it," she muttered blackly before tossing the photos back into the drawer.

xxxxxxx

**cellogirl: **Thank you so much. Now that it's a new year, I'll try to be better with my updating.

**qq0611:** Thank you. There's definitely more saucy cut offs to come ;)

**dreamaway78: **Oh, she'll be doing more about his shirt in later chapters when it gets difficult for her to control herself ;) This really is a no win situation. Everyone is going to get hurt somehow.

**opusnone:** Thank you :)

**Lorelai Anastasia: **Thank you so much. Your review left me blushing a little and feeling horrible that I left the story so long.

**autumnlover: **Thank love! I will try to be better with the updates though. Don't be too hard on Pansy. She's really confused at the moment.

**cinroc: **Egads! Sorry for the long wait. It's a new year though and I resolve to be better with my updates.

**Aasana:** lol. Thank you. I love Pansy and Percy now. I didn't when I started "The Sweetest Revenge". That one started out as a test to write characters I didn't feel attached to. Well needless to say I fell madly for them. Their foibles and imperfections just drew me in. And yes, I am a proud Canuck. I live north of Toronto but go in to work there a few days a week. And I love that poem. Found it when I was 12 and I swear it takes on new meaning every time I read it.

**Rolax15: **Thank you :)


	6. Hands Off

**A/N: Alright, so I officially suck. I know I've been terrible at updating and my only excuse is that life (daughter, husband, work, family) has been completely insane, seriously impeding any time to myself. I'm so sorry and will try to be better from now on.**

Chapter 6 – _Hands Off_

Pansy sat smiling invitingly at her dinner companion, schooling her expression to be the picture of flirtatious languor. The only sign of the anxiety raging within her was her left hand's incessant play with her salad fork. By any other man, this slight obsessive tic would go completely unnoticed. Draco, however, eyed her restless fingers sharply through a deceivingly indifferent gaze.

Unaware of how closely she was being watched, Pansy battled to keep her focus on the light dinner banter and off the apprehension brewing in the cradle of her ribcage. Something felt off but she wasn't quite sure what. She glanced about as casually as she could, scanning the restaurant for any kind of answer.

"Expecting someone?" came a smooth drawl.

"Pardon?" she managed in faux lightness, shifting her eyes nonchalantly back to Draco.

"You keep looking toward the bar," he responded with cool detachment before sipping his wine.

"I… I've been looking for our waiter," she lied smoothly, even producing a little indignation to reward his veiled accusation.

"Even while he was here with our meals?" Draco smirked at her in triumph.

"What are you trying to get at, Draky?" she snipped, warm and cold all in one breath.

"Just that for someone so keen on rekindling an old friendship, you seem less than captivated by my company."

"Rubbish. You know I love spending time with you," she huffed.

Wincing slightly at her less than believable attempt to allay him, Pansy took a small, measured sip of her water. When had she become such a dreadful liar?

"Right. Of course you do," Draco reassured her mockingly. "So you've decided to stay with the Weasel then?"

Snapping her attention back to him, Pansy pinned him a calculating glare. "I haven't decided on anything yet. I'm weighing my options." She straightened in her chair to project her unquestionable superiority, hiding her underlying doubt over the subject. "Why should you care? Aren't you shackled to Potter? How is the saviour doing these days anyhow?"

Draco's countenance darkened almost imperceptibly. "As much as I adore you, Panse, I don't want to discuss Harry tonight."

"What? Trouble in paradise?" she teased lightly.

"Nothing of the kind. I simply don't take pleasure in divulging my personal business."

"So is Potter merely business to you then?" Pansy knew she was pushing some fairly dangerous buttons with her friend. He'd never taken kindly to interrogations about his private life. But she was thoroughly baffled by even the thought of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter shacked up together let alone being civil to one another.

"Pansy," he snapped in warning.

"What? Excuse me for finding it hard to believe you two are an item. As I recall, you couldn't stand the sight of him."

"Just like you hated the Weasleys?" he bit back, hitting his mark.

"I still do," she spat venomously.

"Then why are you still weighing your options?" he lobbed at her.

"There's more to a marriage than liking your partner, Draky darling. You should know that by now," she purred, the edge to her voice unmistakable though.

"Such as…" Draco pressed, ignoring the cruel flame dancing in her eyes.

"You know. Money. Power. Social standing. Same reasons you're with Potter I assume."

"That is not why I'm with Harry," Draco interjected heatedly.

Pansy disregarded his interruption, and continued on with her train of thought as if talking to herself. "Actually, it makes perfect sense. Who better to fill your need for attention than the poster child himself? Must be fantastic for a drama queen such as yourself to be perpetually living in the lime light."

"As I said before, Pansy, it would do you well to avoid this particular topic," he gritted out through clenched teeth.

"Does Potter know you're only using him?" she asked playfully.

"I am not using Potter. Harry is… he's –"

"I'm what exactly?" The disembodied voice was flat and cold.

Draco's eyes slid shut briefly. After a second to gather his courage, he swiveled in his chair to face the man he'd been arse over teakettle in love with for ten plus years, offering him a wide, uneasy smile.

"Harry!" he bubbled a little too brightly.

"What are you doing here?" Harry growled, totally ignoring the chipper greeting.

"I…We decided to grab a bite."

Pansy gave a meager yet cloying wave in the hopes of egging the tosser on.

"Working late my arse," Harry snapped loudly, turning around briskly.

In a flash, Draco was up and out of his seat, grabbing Harry's arm to stay his flight before he had made it even two steps. "Harry, wait! Wait! Join us."

At that, Harry stopped abruptly and slowly turned around. The look on his face screamed disgust and incredulity.

"Join you? Are you kidding me? Why are you even here… with her?" Harry gestured with a halfhearted wave in the direction of their table.

"We're just catching up. She flooed me and…"

"You know what the healers said," Harry reprimanded, cutting Draco short. "She needs to stay near Percy. This is only going to cause her more strain."

"Harry, it's me. I'm her oldest and dearest. What real harm could two friends having dinner do?"

Suddenly, Harry's eyes reduced to slits. "What are you up to?"

"What? Nothing. Nothing. Why would you… We're just having dinner."

Harry's face fell first in comprehension, followed by resignation as Draco continued to babble. He didn't know what Draco was plotting, but it couldn't be good if he was willing to risk Pansy's health and sanity.

All the energy and fight drained out of Harry's posture as he stepped closer to Draco and muttered. "I'm going home. It would be best if you found somewhere else to stay for the night."

"Harry," Draco pleaded, but Harry had already turned on the spot and disapparated.

Draco was left staring blankly at the newly vacated spot. After several long seconds, he finally turned back to the table and sat heavily in his chair, his eyes unfocused and his mind obviously several miles away.

Pansy had watched the entire exchange with rapture. At first, she'd been delighted at the prospect of a spat between the two men. It would be just like old times and she desperately needed a dose of the familiar. But as the weight and tone of the argument descended, Pansy felt herself growing first uncomfortable, then embarrassed. This was quite clearly a lover's quarrel and she got the distinct feeling of being a third wheel.

Even as she watched a sullen and muted Draco across the table afterward, she felt a nagging pity for him biting at her. This would definitely be in the rags by the morning. Further compounding her guilt was the fact that instead of wanting to stay and comfort him, she craved nothing more than to be home curled up in front of the fire with a glass of wine and…

"Sorry about that," came Draco's voice, interrupting her thoughts. "Are you all right?" he asked suddenly, a look of alarm knitting his brow.

Pansy breathed in deeply and felt all of her strength escape her on the long exhale out. ""Yes. Yes… Just tired all of a sudden." When had she grown so exhausted? Where had her energy gone? She was fine a moment ago. "Would it be all right if we made this a short night? I'm not really feeling up to dessert."

Draco nodded quickly and stood up, concern and self-reproach marring his other wise chiseled features. "Of course. Let me take care of the bill and get our cloaks, and then we'll be off."

He fled the table without another look, leaving her to her increasingly muddled thoughts. The facts of the recent altercation between the two men were beginning to bleed away as Pansy became totally focused on being nestled in her dressing gown, although for some reason it was a ratty old, green terrycloth bathrobe that actually came to mind.

----------

Pansy wandered slowly down the darkened hallway toward the large spiral staircase, her mind whirling with disappointment as well as the events of the evening. The restaurant and food had been exquisite. Draco had been charming and flirtatious until the saviour of the Wizarding world had come along. Although it was a nasty quarrel, it should have been a source of hope for her. She couldn't, however, quell the malaise churning inside of her.

Suddenly, the low rumble of two voices echoed into Pansy's ears. Spotting a crevice of light not twenty feet in front of her, Pansy discerned it to be the source of the sound and crept quietly to partake of whatever conversation was ensuing. As she neared the door, the two voices became more distinct. It was a man and a woman in the throes of a subdued conversation.

"I just can't do it, Pen. She's been here less than a day and I feel like I'm going to have a breakdown."

Pansy squinted slightly and tried to peer into the room through the crack in the door, but could only catch flashes of colour and light.

"Percy, it's the bond. You know it's volatile right now, but it'll even itself out. Give it some time."

Ignoring the woman's soothing words, Percy sputtered on. "It's not that. It's not just that. Did you know she went out tonight? She's been home less than six hours and she felt the need to go out. Out for dinner and Merlin knows what else with sodding Malfoy. How can you possibly say we'll get better if she can't stand to be near me for more than an hour at a time?"

Pansy cautiously edged the door open a little further. When she was finally able to peek in and gain a better view, she instantly felt a large knot twist in her throat at the scene playing out before her. The Weasel was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, but it wasn't that sight that had her feeling a sick, writhing sensation in her stomach. A blond woman sat on his desk with her back to Pansy, effectively concealing her face, with a hand on _her_ husband's back, rubbing soothing circles.

"They're friends," the slag murmured to him softly.

He slowly lifted his face and sighed, letting his hands fall heavily onto the desk. Pansy could clearly make out the fatigue riddled over his face. "Not in her mind. She loves him, didn't you know?" he sneered mirthlessly.

"Percy, she only thinks she's in love with him, but it won't last. You've convinced her to come home. It's only a matter of time before she starts –"

"You don't know that," he snapped, cutting her off unceremoniously. He stood abruptly and turned to face the warmly lit hearth behind them. "None of you know for sure. You lot are all hoping she'll return to normal with exposure. Well what if she doesn't? What if she doesn't get her memory back? What if the bond stays this way? Or gets worse for that matter? What if she asks me for a divorce? Sweet Merlin, what if she doesn't and wants to stay married to me for the money… or house… or reputation? That's almost worse."

"Percy, she needs you… for more than that. You know she does. She won't survive this without you," the woman tried to interject, but Percy continued on deaf to her reasoning.

"I can't take her like this. She's not the woman I love. I don't know this person, and I'm not entirely sure I want to."

"Percy," the hussy cooed with pitying coyness as she slid off the desk and wrapped her arms around him. Percy merely leaned into the embrace and stared vacantly into the fire.

A blinding surge of rage enveloped Pansy at the sight. She launched herself violently through the door and pointed a trembling hand threateningly at the couple.

"Get your hands off him."

Percy and Penelope pulled apart violently, a wide-eyed dumfounded expression plastered on both of their faces.

After a few long seconds, Penelope shook off her shock and came around the desk with a large warm smile gracing her lips. "Pansy, it's –"

"Don't you come a step closer, you tramp," Pansy snarled. Penelope stopped dead in her tracks, and the smile fell instantly from her face replaced by an expression of hurt.

"So this is what you get up to when I'm not home?" Pansy jabbed at Percy. "Groping skanky trollops on your desk? Some kind of marriage we have. No wonder I felt the need for other male companionship."

Instead of sparking his temper, Pansy's accusation only seemed to deflate Percy further into dejection.

"Pansy, it's not like that. I'm your attending –" Penelope tried to calm her incensed friend.

"That's Mrs. Weasley to you," Pansy quipped stiffly.

"Pardon?" It wasn't Penelope who stammered out the question.

Pansy afforded Percy an uneasy glance only to find he had turned to face them. His eyes seemed to glisten with something she couldn't quite place. Unable to maintain the connection, she scoped about for her resolve to confront the whore.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Penelope answered meekly shored up by the fact that Pansy seemed to be laying claim to Percy.

"And you say you're my attending? My attending what exactly? Shouldn't you be attending to _me_ instead of trying to seduce my husband?"

"Pan-… Mrs. Weasley, I wasn't trying to seduce your husband. He was upset and I merely was trying to comfort him."

"I'll bet you were. Trying to comfort your way into winning yourself a rich husband no doubt."

Penelope couldn't help but scoff at Pansy's assertion. "Hardly. Why would I need a rich husband when I already have a perfectly lovely one?"

"I don't know," Pansy offered uncertainly before another idea came to her. "Perhaps you're looking for a fun romp. I can't read the minds of tarts."

"Pansy –" Penelope implored in a low, cajoling voice.

"Mrs. Weasley," Pansy corrected her through thin lips.

"Mrs. Weasley," Penelope answered quietly in return, placating her.

"And what should I call you? I assume you won't respond to slag?" Pansy asked coldly, her cruel sense of humour making itself known.

Penelope took a steeling breath, and responded simply. "Healer Wood."

"Well, Healer Wood." Pansy stopped briefly, irked by the familiarity of the name. "You might as well head to your room and collect your things because your services are no longer required here."

Shocked by Pansy's dismissal, Penelope looked backed to Percy for support. In response, Percy clasped his hands behind his back and assumed as business like a posture as he could muster.

"That's not your decision to make, Pansy," he spouted, meeting Pansy's heated glare dead on.

"Oh, but it is," Pansy growled after a moment, her chest beginning to rise and fall noticeably.

"No, I'm afraid it isn't."

Pansy blinked at him a few times, stunned by his determination when an odd notion struck her. "I understand now. You want to keep your whore near you. Well, I won't allow it."

"Don't be ridiculous," Percy huffed.

"I am not being ridiculous," Pansy shouted, stamping her foot on the ground for emphasis.

"No. I would say you're being childish now." Without giving her an opportunity to answer back, Percy turned his eyes toward Penelope. "Thank you for your support, Healer Wood. You may retire for the evening and resume your duties in the morning."

"Are you sure, Percy?"

"Don't you call him that!" Pansy barked.

Ignoring her outburst, Percy continued on. "Yes, we'll be fine. If we need anything, we'll call you."

Penelope gave a hesitant nod and began to cross the room. A moment before exiting however, she turned and offered Percy a small encouraging smile. He returned the gesture with a solemn nod while running his right hand over the nape of his neck.

Their silent exchange made Pansy's chest clench painfully. Forget the fact that she didn't really want the tosser, but who was this woman to have such an intimate connection with the man who was supposed to be _her_ husband? It was galling.

Suddenly, a renewed wave of exhaustion washed over Pansy, and she pressed a hand to her forehead. If she was going to hold her own against this insufferable twat she was going to need some fortification for her waning defenses. Her eyes lit upon the liquor trolley across the room that sported the harsh amber liquid she knew would do the trick, so she made a beeline for it without delay.

Watching her course with growing alarm, Percy took a few tentative steps. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, you moron?" she hurled back as she began to pour herself a generous helping.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," he mumbled, joining her at the cart and relieving the glass from her hand as she moved it to her lips.

"I beg your pardon?" she roared, pinning him with a glare that could melt steel.

"I said it's not a good idea," Percy rejoined coolly, purposely avoiding her withering stare.

"How dare – " Pansy began to huff, but before she could truly begin her rant Percy cut in.

"You're still not recovered and the healers specifically stated that alcohol was – "

"I don't give a flying fuck what the healers said. I want a bloody drink and I am going to have a bloody drink."

With that Pansy grabbed another glass and restarted the process of fixing herself a large shot. Stunned, Percy was left briefly immobilized by her obstinacy and willful ignorance. Quickly regaining himself, however, he grabbed for the tumbler, "I'm afraid that's just not going to happen tonight."

Foreseeing his hand's goal, Pansy swiftly turned to face him, placed the glass behind her back, and uttered lightly, "Listen you pathetic wanker, you are not getting this glass from me. I've had a very eventful evening…"

"With Malfoy," Percy interjected darkly, taking a predatory step toward her.

"Yes, with Draco," she shot back, refusing to cow to his intimidation tactic. "He's the love of my life. Of course I'm going to try and win him back from that loser, Pottyhead," Of course she wasn't entirely sure she meant what she'd just said, but she knew she should use his earlier words against him. It was an obvious weakness and would give her the upper hand.

Percy went rigid at her words, white, hot rage surging within him and threatening to take over. "Good luck on that one, you silly twit. Malfoy is gayer than springtime. You're about as likely to turn him back as…"

"Shut it, you toss pot," she snarled, taking a menacing step toward him. "I am all woman, and any man would kill to have me."

Standing toe-to-toe and panting with fury and aggression, their breath mingled in a ragged dance. The truth of her words as they related to him suddenly struck Percy hard right between the eyes. Under the right circumstances, he would do just about anything to have her back. As he stared down into the rich chocolate brown eyes he adored, he couldn't resist the temptation to steal one brief glance at her wetted, blood red lips.

Sensing the abrupt shift in energy between them, Pansy swiveled around and put her back to him. Although she tried to convince herself that his desire revolted her, it was hard to deny the coil of heat twisting in her core.

"As I said, I'm quite spent and would _"ava" _for a shot right now. So you'd be wise to bugger off while you still have all your parts. Now if you don't mind."

She dismissed him with a scooting flick of her fingers over her shoulder and then lifted the amber warmth to her mouth in the hopes that it would erase her fluctuating emotions. The crystal had barely touched her lips when two arms fiercely wrapped around her slight frame and a set of disembodied hands began a blind, fumbling search.

"Get you sweaty, grubby paws off me!!!" she shrieked as she brought the tumbler into the protective cradle of her arms.

"Give me the goddamn glass, Pansy," he growled into her ear as he groped for the tumbler she was concealing.

His hot breath on the nape of her neck and his writhing body pressed firmly into her back drove a pulse of arousal down Pansy's spine, all at once making her nipples go hard and a liquid heat begin to churn between her thighs. She shook her head and tried to free her mind of the unwanted sensations. She needed to focus on keeping the glass away from the wanker.

"Not on your fucking life, Weasley," she panted back with as much venom as she could muster.

Suddenly, Percy grabbed her forearms and spun her to face him. Pansy, however, reacted to his maneuver before she was completely around and deftly moved the tumbler behind her back in one fluid motion.

"Damn it, Pansy! Give me the sodding glass," Percy huffed as he once again fumbled with clutching hands.

His rough movements forced Pansy into his chest and her desire was ignited again. Her mind was beginning to swim with a truly heady mix of anger and lust. In pursuit of his prize, Percy was clueless to the effect he was having on the woman in his arms as he stared mindlessly at a photo on the wall behind them.

Pansy slowly looked up to his face and with a mixture of taunting and teasing, breathed out. "Make me."

Percy drove his eyes down to her defiantly upturned face and felt all of his self-control melt away. Mere seconds passed as he ravenously poured over her features, and then without warning, he relinquished his hold on her arms in favour of driving his fingers into her thick, dark hair and cupping her cheeks in his large palms. Pansy barely had a moment to register the change in direction of their confrontation before her sparring partner descended upon her and roughly claimed her lips in a bruising kiss.

Momentarily dazed by the onslaught of physical and emotional sensation, Pansy released the tumbler and brought her hands in front of her to weakly beat against her assailant. But what had begun as an attempt to force him off quickly turned into a desperate clutching and grabbing to draw him closer.

Pansy fisted handfuls of his dress shirt, tugging him against her, while simultaneously thrusting her tongue into his mouth, any thought of seeking permission conveniently forgotten. In response to her forwardness, a low moan rumbled through his chest. Percy dropped his hands from her face and wrapped his arms around her slim waist in order to scoop her against his chest. The haphazard movement forced them off balance, sending their writhing mass into the liquor trolley.

Shaken by their precarious equilibrium, Pansy laced her arms around Percy's neck, effectively forcing him to tilt his head and deepen the kiss further. Any semblance of control or restraint was quickly sliding away as both grew more fervent and desperate to sate the thrumming need for consummation.

Frustration for more contact fraying her enjoyment of the moment, Pansy hiked her leg up to hook around Percy's calf, further compromising their footing and sending them hard into the liquor trolley once again with another loud thud. The fleeting thought that she would feel that tomorrow flitted through Pansy's mind but was quickly vanquished by a hand curling artfully around her thigh and hoisting it higher. Whimpering her approval, she was too far-gone to even fathom how she should be objecting to his advances.

Percy's mind was reeling with the overwhelming surge of desire and need caused by the simple feel of her beneath his palm and taste of her on his lips. Never before had he felt as if he might drown in the sheer, almost palpable need bubbling within him. In an instant, Percy's mindless bliss morphed into a panicked call for air... to gasp frantically for a much needed breath. Without warning, Percy drew himself back and away from her, his chest heaving violently and his body trembling with excess adrenaline.

"What… What are you doing?" Pansy panted at him, bewildered by his withdrawal.

Misunderstanding her meaning, dense mortification descended upon Percy. "I'm… I'm sorry. That won't ever happen again," he stammered, a mad blush of shame flooding his face.

Her brain still fuzzy, Pansy started in protest. "No… Yes… What?"

His embarrassment briefly forgotten, Percy's brow creased in obvious confusion.

"I… I don't…" For the life of her, Pansy couldn't piece together what had just happened let alone if she wanted it to continue. She felt so blurry. Nothing made sense in her muddy consciousness.

A quiet resignation settled on Percy's features, extinguishing the flicker of hope her uncertainty had brought on, as he realized she was still nowhere near recovered and he'd just taken gross advantage of her.

"Again, I'm sorry," he muttered, looking devoutly at a spot on the floor somewhere around her feet.

At a complete loss for words, Pansy could only watch him mindlessly survey his surroundings before he made a mad dash for the nearest door. As soon as he was gone, an aching sense of emptiness tore at her insides, compounding her already addled state.

xxxxx

**LilyAyl:** Oh, it's not abandoned. Now that summer is coming and my daughter has finally learned to walk safely, I should have more time. I absolutely love these two together. They're so much fun.

**cellogirl:** Thank you :) Sorry for the wait.

**Rolax15: **I'm not abandoning it. I've just had a crazy winter. I should have more time on my hands in the coming months though.

**gri:** Thank you. The beat definitely goes on for these two.

**Lorelai Anastasia: **Thank you so much. I love character exploration. It's an embarrassing obsession of mine. I love the inner workings and such. Sorry for the wait. Life's been crazy.

**autumnlover: **I can't say I blame you where Pansy is concerned. She's being a royal b**ch.

**Salemsoriginal99:** Hey Lady. Sorry I haven't been able to stop by and read some of your stuff. I've barely been able to update myself as you've probably been able to gather. I'm trying to be better though :)

**anon:** Thank you :)

**tamara72: **Thanks. I'll try to be a bit more frequent with the updates.

**stoneofpurity: **Does that last bit get me a morsel of a cookie? lol

**Aasana:** How well you know our dear sweet Pansy. lol. A hissy fit indeed. I actually made a banner for this story (which I haven't figured out on how to post yet). For me, Kristen Davis (Charlotte in "Sex in the City") is Pansy and Damian Lewis (Life) is Percy.

**cinroc:** Thanks so much. She has such a weak spot for Percy. lol. I think he really gets her turned around.

**Sullen Shadowhawk:** I'm sure you would. lol. As would I, to be perfectly honest.

**Vinese: **Handful doesn't even begin to describe my daughter. Every morning the house starts out tidy and by the evening it looks like a bomb hit it. lol.

**Avanell:** Hey girl. Still trying to get time to catch up on my reading. I have something like 10 of your chapters lined up. lol.

**Talbot:** Thank you. Sorry for the long wait. Life's been nuts.

**IrishIsis:** Thank you. As I said above, I love characterization... almost too much. lol. It's the most important part of a story for me.


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